


Your Friendly, Number Neighbor Spider-Man

by Kevy_Grayce



Series: Requests [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poor Life Choices, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Shooting, Texting, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, he's doing his best julius, number neighbor, peter parker doesn't always make the best life choices, tony is retired but alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kevy_Grayce/pseuds/Kevy_Grayce
Summary: In hindsight, Peter knows he never should've texted a stranger as Spider-Man, even jokingly. It just seemed like such a fun idea at the time and he was beyond bored. One measly text to his number neighbor couldn't hurt, right? Everyone was doing it, after all. However, he may get more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Irondad & Spiderson - Relationship, Julius Dell/Roger Harrington, May Parker & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Roger Harrington & Julius Dell
Series: Requests [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533953
Comments: 17
Kudos: 171





	Your Friendly, Number Neighbor Spider-Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chels.gunther](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chels.gunther).



> Happy Friday everyone! The next one shot in our queue is here :) This a request coming from a close friend Chelsea on Instagram! She came up with this wonderful idea and asked if I would write it. I'm very happy with how it turned out and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as we do!! Happy reading, have fun and stay safe❤🧡💛💚💙💜
> 
> Request: “What if Peter Parker, being the gen Z kid he is, texts his number neighbor, but decides to do it as Spider-Man cuz he’s bored. But he sends a pic swinging around the city or something so they know it’s real. Then his number neighbor turns out to be a kid at his school and the kid tells everyone he’s texting Spider-Man so it becomes a big deal and Peter just finds himself in way deeper than he meant to just because of something stupid”
> 
> TW and spoilers// blood, broken bones, attempted school shooting.

In hindsight, Peter knows he never should've texted a stranger as Spider-Man, even jokingly. It just seemed like such a fun idea at the time and he was beyond bored. One measly text to his number neighbor couldn't hurt, right? Everyone was doing it, after all. Plus, Ned might have convinced him to do it.

Peter flops onto his bed after a long, after school patrol, his eyes barely open and tugs off his mask. As soon as he does, his phone is already going off. Even though they just wrapped up patrol, Ned is already texting.

**_Guy in the Chair_ **

Ned: _dude have you done that new twitter trend thing_

Peter: _you say that like twitter doesnt have a new trend every week_

Peter: _wht trend is it this time_

Ned: _wait let me add mj real quick_

**_Guy in the Chair_ ** _has added **MJ** to the conversation _

Ned: _okay now we can start_

MJ: _Why was I added to this when we already have a perfectly fine group chat?_

Peter: _cause ned's lazy_

Ned: _cause im lazy_

MJ: _That makes sense._

MJ: _What do you dorks want?_

Peter: _ask ned i dont knwo anything either_

MJ: _No shock there._

Peter: _hey! i know thigns!!_

MJ: _One of those things isn't how to spell apparently._

Peter: _ajkdfhhfkjnsjs_

Ned: _we are gathered here today to explore the path we were destined to take_

Peter: _i thought this was about a twiter trend,,_

Ned: _it iiiiis just let me sound cool_

MJ: _What you sounded like was an ordained minister._

Ned: _MJ PLEASE_

Ned: _LET ME HAVE THIS_

MJ: _Fine._

Ned: _sO_

Ned: _theres this new trend going around where you text your number neighbor_

Peter: _number neighbor? whats that?_

Ned: _let me FINISH and youll KNOW_

Peter: _leT mE fiNisH ANd yOuLL kNoW_

MJ: _I don't understand either of you._

Ned: _your number neighbor has the same number as you but the last number is one digit off_

Ned: _which is why theyre your neighbor!! get it????_

MJ: _If it’s one digit off then your numbers aren't the same._

Ned: _which...is why they're your neighbor.._

Peter: _i dunno ned this sound kinda stupid_

Peter: _whta if your number neighbor is a creep or a jerk or calls the cops on you?_

MJ: _Then don't give them your address and you'll be fine._

Ned: _the point is its fun and itd be pretty cool if your number neighbor were spider-man just saying_

MJ: _Well we all saw that one coming._

Peter: _cmon ned! Spider-Man isnt a plaything!_

Ned: _pleeeeaase it would be so funny to see someone freak out cause their number neighbor is freaking spider-man!!!! &@$”) _

Peter: _THAT'S A TERRIBLE IDES_

Peter: _they wouldnt believe me and even if they d i d its a bAD ISEA TO GIVE A RANDOM PERSON MY PHOEN NUMBER_

Ned: _youre no fun_

MJ: _No he's just not being stupid._

Ned: _last time i ask you guys to do something fun -_-_

MJ: _I said Peter texting as Spider-Man would be stupid._

MJ: _I never said I wouldn't do it._

Ned: _MJ IS ON BOARD_

Ned: _PETER P L E A S E_

Peter: _ugh_

Peter: _fine_

Peter: _only cause i'm bored_

Peter: _and not as spidey_

When he taps out of the conversation, he rakes a tired hand through his hair and creates a new message. _Am really about to text a random person? Guess I am. Nothing to lose._ He types out his number and changes the last digit to one lower.

**_Number Neighbor?_ **

Peter: _hi, i guess youre my number neighbor?_

Peter: _our numbers are the same exept the last number_

Peter: _whihc makes us number neighbors_

Peter: _apparently_

He slams his face into the pillow when he realizes his nerves just caused him to spam a poor, undeserving person. At midnight. Humiliation is starting to become a relative term for him since he feels it so often. Then his phone buzzes in his hand. He slowly lifts his head and peers at the bright screen.

**_Number Neighbor?_ **

Unknown: _How did u get my number????_

Peter: _i_

Peter: _i just said we have the same number besides one digit_

Peter: _so we’re neghbors_

Peter: * _neighbors_

Unknown: _Whats with all the typos???_

Peter: _i'm tires?_

Peter: * _tired_

Peter: _whats with all the question marks_

Unknown: _Okay fine. What do u want?_

Peter: _i dunno it was just for fun_

Peter: _and i was bored_

Unknown: _Well Im glad you wasted my time because you were bored_

Peter: _wow touchy much?_

Peter: _you must be a blast at parties_

Unknown: _Not everyone has the time to do this dumb shit when theyre bored_

Peter: _oh yeah? n what else do you have to do rn?_

Peter: _we have the same area code so your obv in NY and its 12:38 am soooo_

Unknown: _Important stuff. You wouldnt understand._

Unknown: _I have a following Im practically famous_

Peter: _yeah sure super importaant_

Unknown: _Better than whatver ur doing if ur the one texting a stranger for fun_

Unknown: _I bet ur just one of my fans that found my number_

Peter: _am not!_

Peter: _dont flatter yourself i can see your giant ego from here_

Peter: _who says im not famus or doing important stuff_

Unknown: _Because ur still texting me and you dont know how to spell_

Peter: _typos?? dont equal???? fame??????_

Unknown: _Oh yeah? Prove it then_

Something ignites inside of Peter. He isn't quite sure why the accusations and assumptions and challenges make him so annoyed, but he’s kind of tired of people thinking he's worthless when he's a superhero. Now, he isn't one to be egotistical, it’s more of a need to prove his worth. He wants to be seen as someone important and worthwhile…so what's wrong about getting some recognition? If he just says he's Spider-Man, he can prove whoever this is wrong. Worst case scenario, the person doesn't even believe him. Before he properly weighs out the pros and cons, his emotions take over and he pulls back on his mask.

**_Number Neighbor?_ **

Peter: _i’m Spider-Man_

Unknown: _HA_

Unknown: _Yeah right you poser as if_

Peter: **_Attachment: 1 image_ **

Unknown: _HOLY FCKING SHIT IS RHAT THE SPIDER-MAN MASK???????????_

Unknown: _THIS HAS TI VE A JOKE_

Unknown: _ARE YPU A COSLPAYER OR SOMETTNG_

Peter: _now look who has all the typos_

Unknown: _THIS ISN'T A JOEK YOU'RE BEING SERIOUS??????_

Peter: _this stays between you and me got it?_

Peter: _i cant have all of NY knownig my personal number_

Unknown: _OF COURSE NOT SIR_

Unknown: _I'M SO SORRY I RVER DOUBTED YOU SIR_

Unknown: _I'M FREAJIBG OUT I CAN'T BELIEVE SPIDER-MAN IS MY NUMBER NEIGHBOR_

Peter: _and no posting it on twitter or insta or something okay?_

Peter: _i have like superhero lawyers and stuff_

Unknown: _I WOULD NEVER_

Unknown: _CAN I JUST SAY SIR YHAT YOU'RE MY BIGGEST INSPIRATION EVER AND I LOOK UP TO YOU A LOT AND YOUR THE BEST AVENGER EVER_

Peter: _oh_

Peter: _well uh thats really nice thanks_

Peter: _i appreciate it_

Peter: _i gotta sleep but it was nice talking to you_

Unknown: _Will I be able to text you tomorrow???_

Unknown: _Can I put ur contact name as Spidey??????_

Unknown: _Sir????_

Unknown: _Spider-Man??_

Peter ignores his phone as it continues to buzz and pulls off his mask once again before rubbing his eyes. In the back of his mind he recognizes how stupid it was to not only say he's Spider-Man, but also provide eveidence. He didn't say his _real_ name though, so obviously it doesn't count. Either way, Peter is relatively unbothered and hits the center of his chest to make the suit loosen. After taking the suit off, he falls back into bed and is out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

The next morning, he wakes up to his alarm with a horrible kink in his neck, but he supposes that's what he gets for staying out late to fight bad guys. He rolls out of bed with a groan and gets ready to face the day, throwing on the first clothes he sees. When he walks out into the kitchen, the only thing left behind by May is a sticky note on the kitchen counter.

**Early shift be back by 7 ish**

**I love you have a good day at school ♡**

He knows Ned is probably beyond excited to find out what happened with the number neighbor trend the three of them tried, so he heads out early with his earbuds in to avoid the onslaught of noise that makes up Queens. Once he gets to Midtown High, it’s hard to miss Ned waving him over as he stands beside MJ alongside their lockers. Peter expertly dodges through the constantly moving sea of students to get to his friends.

“Hey,” he greets as he pulls out his headphones.

“Dude, tell us what happened!” Ned immediately demands with a grin. When Peter gives him a disinterested look, he elaborates. “Your number neighbor! How did it go?! Were they cool or, like, a total jerk?” Peter playfully rolls his eyes at his friend’s enthusiasm.

“You guys first,” he says instead as he adjusts his backpack strap nervously. MJ and Ned look at each other and MJ shrugs her shoulder noncommittally. So, Ned is the one to take initiative.

“The first thing my number neighbor said was that it’s uncool to play a prank on them so I told them about the trend. Then they told me that was probably illegal and to make better life choices. So I said they sounded wise and they said it’s because they're a teacher. Turns out it was Mr. Dell.” Ned explains the whole interaction casually, albeit somewhat disappointed. MJ’s eyebrows pull together and her nose scrunches up.

“Seriously?” she questions.

“Mr. Dell?” Peter clarifies, looking between his friends. Who would've thought, a trend to talk to a random person and it turns out to be one of their teachers.

“Are you guys talking about Julius?” All three of them turn towards the urgent voice to see Mr. Harrington. Peter’s head is practically spinning from all the sudden questions. Can this day get any weirder? Mr. Harrington clears his throat. “I meant Mr. Dell,” he amends awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah…” Peter confirms, glancing to Ned skeptically. “He’s Ned’s number ne-”

“You have his number?” Mr. Harrington hastily interrupts, eyes darting to Ned.

“Isn't it, like, illegal? To give you his number?” Ned slowly asks, wary to give it out.

“And don't you have a wife?” MJ adds with the raise of her eyebrow as she crosses her arms. Mr. Harrington visibly gulps and looks slightly off to the side.

“Not anymore…she left me for her yoga instructor…” As he stares off into the distant hallway, there's a few beats of awkward silence. Then, he looks back to the group. “I won't tell if you won't. And we’re both teachers.” Ned shrugs his shoulders and writes down the number.

“Why do you want Mr. Dell’s number,” Peter asks curiously while Ned hands over the slip of paper.

“No reason…maybe just a nice, candle-lit dinner or a movie night.” With that, Mr. Harrington stiffly nods his thanks and walks off.

“Did we just…” Ned starts.

“Accidentally set up a date between Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell?” MJ finishes for him.

“Yep,” Peter confirms, slowly nodding. “What about you, MJ? How was your number neighbor?” he inquires, getting the conversation back on track. MJ leans against the lockers.

“Long story short, the jerk asked for pictures.” She smirks with pride before continuing. “So I sent them a picture of my middle finger. They didn't respond after that.” Ned’s eyes widen and Peter can't help but laugh.

“No way, that’s awesome!” Peter commends with a smile. “Not whoever said that ‘cause that's not awesome, but the way you handled it was, y'know, awesome,” he adds in nervous rambles. Ned nods and gives him a not-so-sly thumbs up.

“Smooth.”

“Very smooth,” MJ agrees, sarcastic as always. “You made us wait this long. What happened with yours?” Peter chuckles anxiously, which probably wasn't the best thing to start with. Being his best friend, Ned’s eyes narrow cautiously.

“What did you do…?” Ned knows that look.

“Okay, so, you know how you said to, uh, tell my number neighbor that _thing?_ And I said ‘no way?’” Peter recounts more or less what they talked about last night.

“You didn't,” MJ cuts in resolutely, almost trying to convince herself that Peter wouldn't do something so stupid.

“I kinda did?” Peter confirms reluctantly, wringing his hands together. Being the only responsible one who recognizes how badly it could have gone, MJ scoffs.

“The pure amount of dumbass energy you exude is unparalleled,” she borderline scolds monotonously. Ned, on the other hand, can hardly contain his excitement.

“What did they say?! Did they freak out? Did they believe you?! Did they ask if you lay eggs?! Did they ask if you use digestive enzymes to liquefy your food?!” The questions come tumbling out, one after the other, and Peter is about to deny them all until he hears another overpowering voice echo through the halls.

“I'm serious! I know Spider-Man!” It's the usual morning alarm of Flash claiming he knows Spider-Man _personally._ These claims have become practically scheduled, almost as reliable as the schoolbell.

“Looks like it’s time for our regularly scheduled program,” Peter mutters, crossing his arms and facing towards the lockers. MJ glances to Flash walking down the hall as he tries to convince one of his friends of his friendship with Spider-Man.

“Does he ever get bored of it?” Ned asks honestly. Sure, Flash has always been adamant about knowing Spider-Man personally, seemingly to get on Peter’s nerves, but Peter can tell he’s a bit more desperate now.

“It’s karma,” MJ says as if it’s more than obvious. “He didn't believe the Stark Internship, no one believes his so-called friendship.” She keeps her eyes lazily trained on Flash as he walks backwards to face his unconvinced friend. Peter shrugs his shoulders disinterestedly. He's dealt with Flash enough already.

“Oh yeah?” Flash challenges. Due to his obnoxiously loud voice, Peter didn't even hear what the other guy’s response was. “I have proof!” At that, MJ’s eyes snap to Peter and Ned whips around with wide, shocked eyes. Peter freezes and his eyes slowly close as his shoulders sag, _please be lying, please be lying._ “Spider-Man’s my number neighbor!” And that's what Peter was dreading. The resounding voices that once filled the halls lowers to murmurs. “He sent me a photo. I posted on my Instagram and everything.” Just like that, there's a crowd of people around Flash trying to get a look at his phone as well as shouting questions about him and Spider-Man.

Amongst all the chaos, only Ned and MJ can hear Peter banging his head against his locker in frustration. Of course. It had to be Flash. Peter was expecting maybe someone trying to cash in on the Spider-Man fame. What he wasn't expecting was his number neighbor to be Flash Thompson…someone who happens to be his high school bully as well as the biggest Spider-Man fanboy in existence. Yeah, that kind of came back to bite him. The universe sure has a sense of humor.

“Well,” MJ starts nonchalantly, “you're in deep shit.” Peter groans and holds his head in his hands before slamming his locker shut. Ned raises his hand slightly as if he were already in class.

“I want to point out that this isn't my fault,” he says. “But what are we supposed to do now?” MJ doesn't provide solutions like she usually does, but instead stares Peter down waiting for his response. Peter presses his lips together in thought as he finally turns towards his friends, shrugging his shoulders.

“Talk to him, I guess. Not really anything else I _can_ do,” he grumbles. This really wasn't how he saw his day going.

“You can't give yourself away,” Ned reminds. “So you're going as Spidey, right?” he adds in a more hushed voice. Peter nods in confirmation.

“Yeah, I have to.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder again.

“Why don't you just call Stark to throw money at it and fix it,” MJ proposes, looking between the two with her arms crossed casually. However, Peter’s muscles tense and he swallows thickly.

“Uh, I, um, I don't wanna bother him. He’s still recovering at the cabin after the…y’know. Everything.” He clears his throat while his eyes dart around to avoid eye contact. Ned glances to him to make sure he's okay. MJ seems to sense the fragility of the subject and lets it go with a concerned glance.

“So…how are you going to do it?” she inquires instead.

“I’ll just use Interrogation Mode or my Batman voice.” Peter says it in all seriousness, but MJ snorts in amusement.

“Batman? Really? That can't be your whole plan. Comics aren't real life, Parker.” MJ’s brutally honest words cause both Peter and Ned to gasp simultaneously.

“You take that back,” Peter whispers incredulously, only making MJ smile smugly.

“You heathen. That's like saying Santa isn't real.” Ned shakes his head as he stares at her.

“You do realize that Santa is only a way for parents to manipulate their kids into acting good all year in exchange for material items. Also known as bribery.” On that note, the three of them start to walk to first period as MJ explains the probability of Santa Claus being able to time travel to make it around the world in one night. Now, Peter just has to make it through the day while listening to Flash’s retelling of texting Spider-Man.

By the time the final bell rings, Peter, Ned, and MJ are exiting the school as quickly and as discreetly as possible. Peter goes to change into his suit while Ned and MJ go to Ned’s house, which happens to be the closest and the one with the most tech. With Team Spidey getting situated, Peter slips on his mask and gets to work.

“Hey, Karen!” he greets enthusiastically, already webbing himself up a building.

“Hello, Peter. How was school?” Karen responds politely. Peter goes over the day’s events in his head, but ultimately chooses to keep them to himself. If the Baby Monitor Protocol is still in effect, he can't risk Tony hearing about it.

“Oh, y'know, the usual. Got anything for me?” He has to play it cool.

“According to my data and the police scanners, there seems to be no current crimes taking place,” Karen informs as Peter’s HUD space is cleared. Peter perches on the lip of the building and looks down at the afternoon school traffic.

“Awesome, you're the best,” he praises gratefully. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Always. What do you need?” Karen instantly agrees. Sometimes Peter feels like he doesn't deserve her.

“I need you to text my ‘Number Neighbor’ contact for me, please.”

“Would you like to text ‘Number Neighbor Question Mark’ or ‘Apartment Neighbor’?” Peter practically shudders at the thought of texting his apartment neighbor instead. The same one who demanded they exchange numbers in case of emergency and complains about every noise they make.

“‘Number Neighbor’ with the question mark,” he clarifies, shooting a web out and beginning to swing from building to building.

“What do you want to send?” Karen pulls up the contact on the HUD and awaits Peter’s instructions.

“Um, say I wanna meet him in person to talk about some important things. And that I’ll text him where to go,” Peter says between labored breaths.

“Message sent. You also have two unread messages from Tony Stark,” Karen reminds with a hint of insistence to her voice. _Wait, Mr. Stark’s texting me?_ Peter wonders, mechanical lenses widening slightly. He's tempted to respond, but he has this whole mess to clean up and he just _knows_ Tony would be able to notice his stress.

“Hey, can you see if MJ and Ned are ready yet?” he checks, ignoring Karen’s obvious suggestion.

“If that’s what you want.” Karen’s response reminds Peter a lot of May; conceding even though she knows what the right decision is. “Ned has responded with ‘We’re almost there.’ Though, ‘almost’ was spelled with a ‘y’ instead of a ‘t.’ I made the executive decision to leave that part out,” Karen effortlessly relays, pulling up the conversation for Peter. With the text conversation now visible, Peter can see the notifications climbing in number. “And your Number Neighbor is spamming you. Would you like me to read all eighteen of them?” Peter quickly starts shaking his head.

“No, no, just, I’ll call him,” he decides instead.

“Calling ‘Number Neighbor Question Mark.’” He sorts out all the thoughts in his head as Karen calls Flash.

“I have to figure out where we’re meeting first as soon as Ned and-”

“Shooting in progress, police are on route,” Karen interrupts to hastily update, automatically ending the in-progress call. Peter is instantly on the alert, eyes darting around to try to see absolutely everything and paying attention to his senses.

“Where?”

“Louis Armstrong Middle School, 32-02 Junction Boulevard.” _Oh god, a shooting at a school? All those kids are just getting out,_ Peter thinks frantically, his swinging almost as fast as his racing heart.

“Okay, okay update Ned and MJ on the new plan. I'm heading over there right now. Can you get me anything about what’s happening?” His throat suddenly feels dry, but he has to stay calm.

“No security cameras on the outside of the building. Shots were fired, but no injuries have been reported. There is currently one suspect with a semi-automatic weapon.” Karen’s voice has suddenly taken on a grave tone, and Peter doesn't blame her. The amount of shootings that have been taking place in the country are far too high, but for some reason Peter wasn't expecting it here. Apparently he's too naïve. Instead, he pleads the whole way there that no one gets hurt. Or worse.

When the middle school comes into view, he can see groups of students with their backpacks on huddled close to the ground. There’s a man, but Peter doesn't pay much attention to his appearance, just to the large gun in his hands. He internally cringes. There's a line of cop cars creating a blockade and police officers behind them with their own guns trained on the shooter.

“Hey!” Peter yells as he swings in to get the attention away from the students. He lands between the shooter and the students. The man whips around and raises his gun with shaky hands, aimed at Peter’s chest. “Woah, woah, woah,” Peter raises his hands slightly, “c’mon man. Don't do this.” He tries to talk the shooter down, sweating nervously underneath his suit. The situation feels all too familiar, but he tries not to think about it.

“There's no way out now,” the man counters, looking around wildly. “I'm goin’ down one way or another. Might as well take people with me.”

“No! No,” Peter immediately continues, “you don't, you don't want to do this. You don't want to hurt kids, okay?” He tries to keep his voice even, but he hears it crack. His heart hammers and he knows his words are counterintuitive to the fact the man is even here with a gun, but he has to do something.

“You don't know me!” the shooter screams, his hands trembling even more. Anger. Peter can work with anger. Anger makes people unfocused, but it also makes them reckless. “I'm sick of this _life_ and this _damned society!_ I-” Peter takes his chance to web the gun and yanks it out of the man’s hands before he has the chance to pull the trigger. He catches the gun in the same moment another gunman appears, letting loose a spray of bullets on the cop cars. The cops crouch behind their cars to shield themselves as the sudden shots cause Peter and the students to jump. It isn't enough to distract Peter from the fist flying at his face, which he easily catches.

“Contact ‘Number Neighbor Question Mark’ has responded,” Karen calmly intervenes as Peter flips over the man to shoot a Web Grenade from behind.

“Now’s not the time, Karen! Mute all texts!” The Web Grenade explodes, instantly sending the man flying and pinning him to the front wall of the school.

“‘Number Neighbor Question Mark’ is calling,” Karen informs instead.

“I can't deal with that right now,” Peter says while briefly considering his next move. “Mute calls!” Most of the students are shrieking, covering their ears, and cowering, so he turns to them and starts ushering them away from the ensuing gunfight. “Go! Get out of here! Run!” he yells over the gunshots. The students don't hesitate to listen, rushing in the opposite direction of the commotion, but Peter’s Spidey Sense prickles at the back of his neck. He looks back, expecting to have to dodge bullets and instead sees an SUV screech around the corner and rocket towards them.

It plows through the line of cop cars, police luckily jumping out of the way, but then barrels straight to their group. Peter feels his Spidey Sense intensify and his heart beat even faster.

“Get out of the way!” he yells, the mass of students running away while screaming. However, nothing ever goes according to plan. Amongst the clamour and bustle, a young boy is pushed to the ground. The SUV is too close. The only thing that runs through Peter’s mind in that split second is he can survive the hit, and the boy can't. A single web is shot, attaching to the boy’s sweatshirt, and pulls him out of the way. But with Peter's unstable stance, the countermotion simultaneously flings him in front of the SUV. He doesn't have time to plant his feet like he has many times before to brace for the impact. All he can do is look up before the bumper of the SUV is slamming into his chest.

The collision sends unbridled pain coursing from his ribs outwards as he's dragged off the ground and pulled with the car. Still, the surrounding metal bends around his body, taking some of the damage for him. The back end of the SUV is lifted off the asphalt, but the front tires keep rolling. He desperately tries to grip the hood of the car, which dents underneath his fingertips, as he does his best to find his footing. A rogue scream escapes him when the road burns through the soles of his suit and the bent metal of the car juts at his sides. The pain momentarily gets the better of him, regardless of his efforts to stop the advancing car, and what little grip he has is lost.

His fingers slip and he tumbles underneath the SUV, the rugged asphalt tearing up his suit. He tries to protect his head by covering it with his arms and distantly hopes one of the wheels doesn't use him as a speedbump. His heart beats erratically and his breaths come out as harsh gasps as the car continues over him. Finally, his skidding comes to a stop mere moments before the SUV drifts to a halt. The hood might be banged up, but unfortunately the car is still running. The passenger door is opened and the second shooter scrambles inside.

Despite Peter's throbbing body, his broken lense, and the road rash, he knows he can't let them get away. He lifts a trembling hand and shoots a Splitter Web at the back of the SUV.

“Peter,” Karen speaks up worriedly, “you require medical attention. Do not pursue, you'll only damage your body further.” Her pleas don't deter Peter from his goal. If he lets these guys get away, they could hurt even more people.

“I can't!” he painfully grits out as the SUV starts to drive again. He forces himself onto unsteady legs and shoots another Splitter Web from his other wrist. With all of his remaining strength, he pulls to keep the car in place. The tires squeal and the rubber tires begin to smoke against the asphalt, but he doesn't give in. He yells in both pain and effort and ignores the way his muscles ache in protest. His feet dig into the road beneath him, the rock being forced to give way and crack due to the pressure. It feels like his shoulders are about to pop out of their sockets and his muscles about to rip.

But he has to fight.

He manages to rotate his wrists so the webs wrap around his hands for a better grip and pulls even harder. If Karen is saying anything, he can't hear her at this point. His attention is solely on making sure these criminals don't get away.

This gives the police enough time to surround the car and train their weapons on the remaining two gunmen. They shout their demands and, mercifully, the tires stop spinning. As soon as there's nothing to pull against, Peter stumbles backward before dropping to his knees. His hands burn. His head throbs. His vision swims. His chest feels crushed. His lungs seem to let out more air than they pull in. He's battered from head to toe.

“You're showing signs of internal and external injury. There is also damage to the suit. You need to get somewhere safe.” Karen’s distant, desperate voice tries to reach him. For a moment, Peter simply tries to breathe. Safe. Someplace safe. Safe is with May, but she's at work. Safe is also with Tony, but he's at the cabin. There's no longer an Avengers Tower in New York and the Compound is Upstate. That leaves Ned and MJ, but he's still somewhat aware that he needs to get out of the open. With what little strength he has remaining, he shoots a web…that completely misses its target. _Dammit, Peter. Pull yourself together._ He tries again and is this time able to web a building across the street and pull himself to it with a grunt of pain and effort.

As soon as he's out of sight and obscured from view in a random alleyway, his legs can't hold him up anymore. He stumbles to the ground and his back hits the side of a dumpster. The broken lense causes him to squint against the harsh daylight and he holds his ribs as if they're about to fall out of place.

“Karen,” his breaths are shallow and raspy, “scan.” He rests his eyes as he awaits the results. If he tries to breathe in too deep, his chest pops and it feels like he’s being stabbed as a sharp pain constricts lungs. It’s an accurate analogy because he knows what it feels like to be stabbed.

“Intra-articular, nondisplaced distal radius fractures, bilaterally. Blunt trauma to the chest resulting in costochondral separation of the ninth left rib and tenth right rib. Mild TBI and abrasions across your body. No internal hemorrhaging detected,” Karen lists off without missing a beat. Even if he didn't have the sudden onset of a migraine, Peter still wouldn't be able to understand the confusing medical terminology.

“English,” he grits out.

“Both of your wrists are fractured, you have two separated ribs, a mild concussion, and scrapes,” Karen rephrases, portraying her utmost patience. Peter groans due to the pain, then nods in understanding.

“Yeah, I can feel all that.” He adjusts his sitting position so that his legs are straight out in front of him. “Okay, um, crap.” He's more than aware that he needs help. There's no way he can swing with broken wrists and he isn't exactly in the best shape to walk all the way home, let alone in his thrashed suit. He’d stick out like a sore thumb. “Call, call Ned,” he stutters out.

“I seem to be having trouble connecting to your contacts,” Karen regretfully declines as she attempts to search her database. “The damage done to the suit has caused a disruption in my circuitry. Connection with your phone is poor and the-”

“Just, just call the last person I called,” Peter interjects. He hates interrupting her, but he doesn't have the luxury of time. It’s not like he’s in imminent danger of dying or anything, but dammit he's in a world of indescribable pain.

“Calling,” Karen confirms, and Peter lets out a shaky breath of relief. The last person he called was MJ about the history homework due-

 _“Spider-Man?!”_ Peter freezes, afraid to do so much as even breathe. _No. No, that can't be Flash. I called MJ last!_ Then he remembers that he was calling Flash about the whole Number Neighbor ordeal before Karen cancelled it in favor of the shooting. If it weren't for his broken wrists, he would facepalm.

“Hey,” he draws out, purposely making his voice deeper.

“I didn't think you were actually going to return my calls! I can't believe I'm friends with Spider-Man! This is awesome! Where do you want to meet, uh, sir?” Flash talks so fast that Peter’s muddled brain can barely keep up.

“Well, uh,” Peter pauses as Karen pulls up his exact location, “94-15 32nd Avenue. In the, the alley next to Rainbow Nail.” _Rainbow Nail?_ he mouths to himself in disbelief of the business name.

“I'm on my way! Wait,” Flash stalls, coming to a halt as soon as he had started moving, “is hanging out in alleys a superhero thing? Because that's so dope.” Peter closes his eyes to keep his frustration at bay and hopes that he has enough patience left to deal with this.

“This is actually really important, okay? I need your help.” It’s almost more painful than his injuries to put trust into his bully, but it’s his only option. He can't just backtrack and tell Flash to call Ned or MJ, that would immediately give away his identity.

“Woah. No way,” Flash says in shock. “That's insane! Spider-Man needs _my_ help?!” Suddenly, the thought of passing out by a dumpster doesn't sound so bad to Peter.

“Dude,” is all he says in response.

“I’m on my way! I’ll use my mom’s car! Mom!” With that, Flash hangs up and Peter lets his head rest against the dumpster.

“This…isn't how I saw today going,” he mutters, hardly moving his lips to speak.

“I think you're handling it very well,” Karen encourages in a lighthearted voice. Peter chuckles, then winces from the pain.

“Thanks, Karen.

“Also, Tony Stark is pushing a call through directly to the suit.” This makes Peter’s head snap up.

“Wait, what?! How's he-”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony starts, his voice already taking over a scolding tone. Peter clears his throat to sound as normal as possible, although he knows it’s more than likely that Tony already has his vitals cued up.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he replies sheepishly. His voice comes out more wobbly than he intends it to.

“Don't _‘hey’_ me. Care to explain why these red lights are blinking on my phone? Hm? ‘Cause I sure as hell think you're smart enough to call me when you're in an emergency,” Tony immediately reprimands. His voice is tight and he raises his eyebrows as he awaits an explanation.

“You're recovering from the thing! And, y’know, you should be spending time with family and stuff. I can handle myself, I'm Spider-Man.” Peter’s voice sounds tired even in his own ears. He really wishes he could sleep this one off. Tony, on the other hand, snorts.

“Yeah, I can tell,” he responds sarcastically. “I'm sending Happy.” Peter’s eyes widen. He _hates_ being a burden, so there's no way he wants Tony make a big deal out of this.

“Mr. Stark, that's really not-”

“I don't care. Happy’s on the way and you're coming up. I know you're aunt’s schedule and you can't deal with that mess alone. No ifs, ands, or buts.” Tony then promptly ends the call, leaving Peter in silence once again. If he could rub his face with his hands without hurting his wrists, he would. Instead, he waits silently until Flash speeds past the alley in his mom’s car, screeches to a halt, and jumps over the door. Peter must look much worse than either of them anticipated, because Flash hesitates with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Um, a little help?” Peter speaks up when all Flash does is stare. Flash quickly snaps out of it and rushes to the hero’s side.

“This is the greatest day of my life. Everyone at school is going to be so jealous,” he says excitedly as he gingerly helps Peter stand. Peter groans and bites the inside of his cheeks as he's pulled up. Carefully, Flash puts Peter’s arm over his shoulder and the pair start to hobble towards the curb. The awkward position makes Peter’s ribs ache more, but he chooses not to mention that part. With Flash’s assistance, he's able to actually move, so that's a plus. When he nods to the curb, Flash slowly lowers them to sit down once they reach it. Peter tries not to breathe too much and delicately exhales.

“Thanks,” he’s finally able to say when he doesn't feel like keeling over.

“What happened?!” Flash questions incredulously, looking Peter up and down.

“Y’know,” Peter gently places his hands in his lap, “the better question is probably ‘what _didn't_ happen?’” He makes sure to not make eye contact, for fear of the broken lense giving away part of his face, and keeps his voice low and raspy. “There was a shooting at a school and I, uh-”

“You got _shot?!”_ Flash suddenly shouts, making Peter jump.

“No!” Peter exclaims, lowering his head. “Jeez, man. No, I got, I got hit by a car.” He says it somewhat embarrassingly. He’s _Spider-Man,_ after all, he should be able to stop a measly SUV.

“But…that YouTube video! I saw you stop a bus with your bare hands,” Flash counters, not entirely understanding how Spider-Man could possibly be hit by a car. He looks at the hero with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Peter sighs, his head still lowered, and tries to rotate his wrists a bit.

“Yeah, well.” He leaves it at that for a few minutes. The two sit in silence, Flash waiting for the hero to elaborate and Peter hoping that Happy will pull up to save him from having to. When the awkward silence stretches too long, Peter decides to speak. “The car was about to hit a kid. And I couldn't let that happen. Better me than him,” he reasons in a soft voice. Flash continues to stay silent, mulling the words over in his head.

“That's cool of you,” he mildly compliments. Peter nods in acknowledgement, not particularly agreeing, just not wanting to discuss it. Regardless, Flash continues. “That's what makes you such an awesome hero. You care about all of us. I look up to that and it makes me want to be a better person.” Peter would scoff if it weren't for the fact that Flash sounds surprisingly genuine. It's hard not to find the admission touching, but this is also his bully. If Flash _wanted_ to be better he wouldn't be such a jerk to people. Unless…Peter doesn't know the whole story. He sighs. Who is he to judge? He was a complete jerk after Ben died.

“Thanks, man. That’s good to hear,” he commends. Maybe he’s being too soft and overly empathetic, but what does he have to lose? “You have to do your part too, okay? I can't help everyone so…so make someone’s day, y’know?” He feels dumb for having to use an overly deep voice while trying to be profound, yet it needed to be said. Flash intently stares at his hands and considers the hero’s request before looking back up.

“You can count on me, sir.” His tone is resolute and Peter really does hope he means it. Maybe Flash will be a bit less…confrontational at school. Peter holds his fist up, which Flash eagerly fist bumps.

“But you kinda have to keep this to yourself.” When Flash opens his mouth to argue, Peter hastily adds, “If any bad people find out you know me, then you're in danger. That means no bragging to your friends and no giving out my number or, I dunno, tweeting about it, okay?” Peter tries to put as much emphasis behind his words as he can. Although Flash looks like he wants to disagree, he doesn't.

“Fine. But you better appreciate it. I could make myself famous with this if I really wanted to,” he points out, crossing his arms.

“If you prefer, I could have Iron Man make you sign a nondisclosure agreement,” Peter offers instead, causing Flash to pale at the thought. As if on cue, the black Cadillac pulls up and the window rolls down to reveal Happy.

“What the hell happened to you?” Happy demands, looking more confused than anything as he eyes Peter.

“Long story. I’ll tell you on the way,” Peter assures as Flash helps him up. He winces slightly, but he can already feel his healing factor getting to work on his sore muscles and scrapes. By the time Peter’s up, Happy is already holding the passenger door open for him.

“Who’s this?” Happy questions, his scrutinizing gaze turning on Flash. With quick, shallow breaths through his nose, Peter manages to get in the car.

“Number Neighbor, Happy. Happy, Number Neighbor.” He chooses not to use Flash’s name, just in case Happy tells Tony.

“Uh huh…” Happy doesn't sound too convinced, but that's also because he has no idea what a number neighbor is. Not that he wants to know. “Tony’s waiting, so let’s get a move on,” he says impatiently while walking back to the driver’s side. Flash shuts Peter’s door, who gives him one last thumbs up.

“Thanks again,” Peter says gratefully. Flash smiles ever so slightly before the car pulls away and the window is rolled up.

“Now’s a good time to catch me up on what’s going on and why it looks like you got run over,” Happy speaks up sarcastically, though his voice holds no humor. Peter chuckles weakly at how on the nose Happy inadvertently is.

“Because I did.” He reclines his seat so that it doesn't hurt his ribs as much all the while Happy glances to him with his eyes wide.

“Tony’s going to kill us both,” Happy mutters. Peter nods in agreement, slipping off his mask since the windows are blacked out.

During the three hour drive to the Stark family cabin, Peter texts Ned and MJ what happened and catches Happy up on basically everything that has gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours. This includes saying he's Spider-Man to a stranger, said stranger turning out to be his high school peer, the almost-shooting at a school, and then promptly being run over by an SUV. Happy looks more and more stressed with each passing second, but Peter knows it’s nothing compared to how Tony will react.

When they arrive, Happy makes sure Peter gets out of the car alright before helping him up to the cabin. Tony is outside within seconds, taking Peter’s weight from Happy and getting him inside.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Peter asks casually, his entire body aching. Still, it could be worse; he could've been hit by a train. Or a plane. Both of those would've been worse. Tony scoffs, kicking the front door the rest of the way open.

“Me? Oh, just having a heart attack, thanks. You?” They make it over to the couch where they both plop down. Peter immediately lies back, rests his head on the cushions, and relaxes for the first time that day.

“Pretty good, thanks for asking,” he answers as he holds his ribs.

“What on Earth were you thinking?” Tony questions. Straight down to business as always. He rolls out his shoulder, the one still sore from his new prosthesis. Peter thinks for a moment.

“During which part?” he inquires honestly. Technically speaking, he doesn't know how much Tony is aware of. Apparently, it’s not a lot because Tony’s eyebrows rise as if he heard something wrong.

“There's more than _one_ part?!” He blinks expectantly at Peter, awaiting the explanation.

“Well, yeah. Do you want me being stupid: part one or me being stupid: part two?” Peter’s lighthearted nature doesn't seem to do much for Tony’s anxiety.

“I prefer the part where you make responsible decisions that don't give me high blood pressure,” Tony counters.

“Then you'll have to wait for part three,” Peter regrettably informs, then sighs. “I might've gotten hit by a car…” He looks up only to see Tony’s face morph into complete and utter shock. “But! It wasn't that bad and it wasn't my fault!” he adds in a rambled panic. “There was this, this _shooter_ at a middle school that turned out to be _two_ shooters so I had to help and no one got shot but a kid was gonna be run over by a _third_ guy so I webbed him out of the way but I didn't do it right so I got…hit.” He slows down enough to realize he was talking way too fast and probably none of it made sense. Tony stares at him in disbelief, then stands straight up from the couch to pace before walking to the kitchen for the first aid.

“Alright,” he breathes, returning with a plastic case, “what’s part two?” Peter has to give him credit, he's taking it pretty well. This is why he chose to tell that part of the story first.

“Actually, that was part two.” Tony glances up at Peter’s statement as he pulls at antiseptic wipes and iodine. “I might've texted someone as Spider-Man.” Peter winces not at the stinging of the antiseptic over his scrapes, but at the astonished look Tony suddenly pins him with.

“You _what?”_ Tony demands with a tight voice.

“Technically!” Peter starts in his defense, “Technically, you gave your secret identity away after, like, two months in an unplanned press conference so are you _really_ the person who’s gonna scold me?”

 _“Yes!”_ Tony exclaims, stress exuding from him in almost palpable waves.

“I didn't even give away my identity though! I just said I was Spider-Man! It’s fine, Mr. Stark. Everything’s good now and I worked it out.” Peer’s reassurances do little to calm Tony’s racing heart. Tony rubs his temples with both of his hands, attempting to shield himself from the world.

“You're run over and everything’s peachy keen, huh? Yeah, that makes sense,” he grumbles.

“It makes sense if you don't think about it,” Peter comforts playfully, trying to lift the mood a bit. Tony looks at him in bewilderment, stunned into momentary silence.

“You and Morgan are going to send me to an early grave. I can feel it. The pure amount of _stress_ I get from you two is going to make me keel over.” Although his words are serious, there's a hint of humor to his voice.

“Just wait ‘til she's a teenager,” Peter reminds with an innocent smile, earning him a halfhearted glare.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Tony says without any heat behind his words, though he does return Peter’s smile. “I'm just glad you're not roadkill.” Peter chuckles, his side twinging, and jokingly rolls his eyes.

“You and me both,” he agrees. Tony continues his task of cleaning up Peter’s scrapes.

“Don't think you're getting yourself out of a lecture. When May gets off shift, we’re going to tag team the lecture of your _life,_ kid.” Peter groans at the mere thought, but he supposes this is what he deserves. “Next time you call if you're in a hot spot, capisce? That’s what I'm here for.” Tony says additionally, his tone much more serious. Peter smiles sheepishly, but nods nonetheless.

“Got it, Mr. Stark,” he gratefully agrees. Grateful because he has friends and family to be there for him, even when he doesn't think he needs their help in the moment. They’ll always be there during the lowest of lows, and he’ll be there for them. Hopefully, due to the strange and unexpected events of the past day, he now has another person he can count on in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Next one shot: You're My Superhero, December 13th! Some well deserved, Aunt May centric fic time :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!❤🧡💛💚💙💜
> 
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